It Drips
by unearthing
Summary: Pansy sighed, she pushed her hair back, brushing it with her fingers. “Why? I thought the Gryffindor was incapable of such an act.” She gestures with a hand. “Killing someone! Tsk, tsk.. The war is over Hermione.”[Dhr,] [Hhr.]


_Challenge: Personal challenge by softlydescending, Make a creepy/ confusing fic._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Nor do I own 'For me and me gal' from which the lyrics are from._

_Music: Climbing up the walls by Radiohead._

_Time: 23:47 I've finished at last._

_A/N As you may have noticed, I didn't kill Hemione. And I don't think I will. Also, do you think I should continue this?_

_A/N 2 If this is really confusing, then let me know. I can put a little 'splainy thing up here first then. By the by in case this isn't obvious, Hermione's crazy. _

_Enjoy._

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**_It Drips_**

- -

She's dirty. Harry laughed when she came in. Playing with the Weasley's grandchildren again? Shower, shower, shower.

It drips, flows smooth silly stream, wet water, covering her back, falling down her shadowed shoulder blades. Pools rest in the hallows of her collarbone.

Her nose wrinkles in disgust.

Giggling and smiling toothily, she full out laughs.

Silhouetted against light, indents and small curves. Shlip, slip, wandering thin waterfalls. They're not coherent thoughts, she stretches, her hands reach above her head. She's stiff, not having slept much lately. Curb yourself. She says, she doesn't need problems, well, any more than she has.

She steps out, and droplets swirl down her naked legs, her unglorified body is slowly unwinding. She's wet, slick hair sticking to her neck before it will start to curl. Tight curls, he used to wind hem around his fingers, pulling lightly as he looked away. _You're so weak_, he'd say_. You want me? I hate you. Never forget that. It's not going to change. _

She doesn't want this, she's so unhappy. She's bought the dress, scheduled the venue, the rehearsal; invitations have been sent. He's not her love. But she feels like a whore. Fake. False smile, false laugh.

But her happy existence must be confirmed and continued, sanity kept in full visibility.

"_Hermione!" She turns quickly, hair swirling out behind her._

_Smiling, she runs toward them shouting, "Harry! Ron!"_

_Harry catches her in hug, kissing her lightly on the lips. "Hi Harry," she whispers._

"_No hug for me?" Ron stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder_

"_Of course Ron," She twists and briefly hugs him. "On more serious business, have either of you found anything?"_

_The two boys glanced at each other, silently conveying words, a decision._

" _No, nothing."_

They lied to her, they hid from her; kept the glory to themselves, not that she cared. Her world revolved around him. She pushed away the returning hatred, ignored his constant rebuttal of her affections. Life continued.

"_DON'T TOUCH ME!" She screamed, and pushed him violently away. Pulling into herself, she backed away, and continued to whisper. _

"_No matter how many times I bathe, I could scrub myself raw. Dirty girl, mud-slick blood . . . I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!" The dampness of the empty halls seemed to suck in the noise._

_Draco recoiled pulling back his hand, he wanted to console her, but at the moment, there were more important things; like the deatheater meeting he was supposed be at in twenty minutes. _

_Meaning he had to leave now if he were to make it on time; there was no other option really punctuality was a necessity.  
_

"_Why should I care?" He managed to speak.  
_

_She continued whispering, wringing her hands, slowly sinking to the floor. _

"_Oh no, no, no. . . . Come darling, sit up." Leaning down, he put his arm around her waist and lifted her up. "Yeah, you see? Not so hard. Now I _have_ to go. Okay?" _

_She lifted her head and stared. _

He started to break, started to care. Though as in love, passionate hate cannot simply disperse; no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop. He didn't understand her kindness, basked in her obsession. None of that meant he didn't loathe her.

_She giggled, and the blonde looked at her arrogantly._

"_I know you did it." Pansy stood next to a large dining table, her hand resting lightly on the top._

_Hermione grinned, "I know I did it too." _

_Pansy sighed, she pushed her hair back, brushing it with her fingers. "Why? I thought the little Gryffindor princess would be incapable of such an act." She gestured with a hand. "Killing someone! Tsk, tsk.. The war is over, you know?"_

_Hermione shifted in her chair, and crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, "Why do you care?"_

"_If the truth be told, I don't," Pansy smirked and trailed her fingers off the opaque wood. "But, you know blackmail is in these days and I always want keep up with the latest fashions." _

_How Slytherin of her._

_Hermione knocked her head to the side, eyes wide in utter innocence. "Oh, Pansy!" She pouted, " I am so terribly sorry about the news! I just heard yesterday and came by to offer my heartfelt condolences on the loss of your most dearest friend!" _

_Pansy was now standing at the end of the oval table, hands on hips. The beat of her brown patent heels made a dull sound as they hit the Persian carpet that lay beneath them. "Really Hermione, do you think that they'll believe that?" Hermione yet again, smiled. _

"_I really do Pansy. I _really _do." _

Wedding bells, they ring. I'm to be married! I love you Harry, as I am declaring my undying passionate, yet innocent love to you. Aren't you happy?

Yes, you are. You smile more now, laugh when I'm klutzy. You_ love_ me.

_Ding-dong, ding-dong._

_Do you hear the bells go ding-dong?  
Do you know, do you know why they're ringin'?  
Do you know why the birds are singin'?_

_  
Well, you're gonna get a big surprise,  
'cause I'm gonna put you wise._

_  
The bells are ringin' for me and my gal.  
The birds are singin' for me and my gal._

_  
And sometime we're gonna build a little home for two, or three, or four, or more,  
in Loveland for me and my gal. _

She stares at the whitewash walls, thinking. A twenty four piece set of silver, made in France in the late 1830's. Orrefors glass bowls, basis crystal, made of lead. Silken placemats, MADE IN CHINA. _Cheap_, she scoffs. But not so much, as they clean themselves.

Lace tablecloth; hand done by some odd nuns in Nice. Lifting it with one hand, she pats her belly with the other.

Four months since they've been married. Three months pregnant, two weeks knowing. Harry's so happy about this. She's so bored, he won't let her work.

"_Be safe, alright Love? We don't want anything happening to you and baby here." He smiled, rubbed her slightly swollen stomach and kissed her goodbye._

So. . . Wedding gifts. Hundreds of beautiful things. Lovely paintings and porcelain vases, a bouquet that never dies; bright and half living 'till they decide they're not needed, unwanted.

She stands, slowly moving to her feet, she walks to her closet. Sticking an arm out and pushing back the clothes, her hands grab a box resting on an upper shelf in the back.

An old shoe box. A muggle one. It's midnight blue and has a name stamped on the top.

There's only one thing in it.

A newspaper. It's a few years old, and slightly ripped on the edges. She handles it gently, delicately savouring the feel of it in her hands.

Tucking it under her arm, she walks back to the bed, wedding gifts still scattered on the sheets.

- - - -

EX-DEATHEATER MURDERED IN OWN HOME

**Prominent business partner, and ex- deatheater, Draco Malfoy was found**

**dead last Saturday. " I can't understand why anyone would do this?" His mother,**

** Narcissa Malfoy commented in slight hysteria to us earlier. "I had thought that **

** we were free from those worries now" He was apparently killed manually, by a **

**single stab wound through the heart****. As of yet, the authorities have no leads as to **

**whom the killer might be. "Currently we are looking into those few Deatheater **

**groups which still seem to exist, even after the Dark Lord's descent." Head **

**Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, recently said in a press conference on the matter. **

_More on this subject can be found on page eight._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Playing with the pages as she giggles, looking dreamily into the pictured Draco's eyes. He was stoic as always, flinching only barely as the camera flashed in his face.

She pouts, now staring strangely at the picture. It didn't match the one she had charmed into her journal. That one was different.

She remembers when she first read the paper that morning.

She'd taken a pencil and circled the word HEART.

- - -

_Really Draco, you should've know not to break **mine** .  
_

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_**Please Review.**_


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